Alcohol— would you believe it?—steadies his nerves and keens his brain: which is against the laws of gravitation, you might say. Instead, he could not get beyond these minor details—why she wore the dress, whence she had come, and whither she was bound. He would certainly welcome McClintock's advent. She felt her forehead repeatedly break out in a light sweat. Their conversation hung. Around her neck was a little gold chain.
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